


Isaac Knows Best

by occasionalwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac helps Stiles, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalwriter/pseuds/occasionalwriter
Summary: “Anything to say?”Stiles shakes his head a bit, reaching his hand up to hold the ice pack for himself, allowing Isaac to stand up and stretch out a bit, cleaning up the first aid kit and getting it put away as quickly as he can. It takes another five minutes but Isaac sifts through his room enough to find some clean and comfortable clothes that Stiles can wear.“I know it wasn’t him. Technically.” Stiles says finally, messing with the drawstring on the sweatpants and twisting it around his fingers. “I know that.”“Think you can separate that though?” Isaac asks, sitting down next to him. When Stiles doesn’t answer right away Isaac speaks up again, “Stiles. I’m so sorry.”





	Isaac Knows Best

“Come on Stiles, I’ll help you.”

Stiles is moving before he can really think about it, trailing Isaac as he weaves through the rest of the members of the pack who are staring at him and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why everyone is so quiet and why they’re looking at him with so much pity. So, he looks at Isaac’s heels and follows his footsteps.

Derek’s loft isn’t huge, just two bedrooms with an average size living area, but it seems to take ages to get from the kitchen, through the living room, and into Isaac’s room. Isaac slows down when he realizes that Stiles isn’t quite keeping up with him and holds the door open once they finally make it to his room.

Stiles looks displaced where he’s standing just two feet inside into the room and Isaac sighs quietly as he shuts the door behind the both of them. Then he’s putting a hand on Stiles’ elbow, pulling him toward the bed and then standing straight in front of him.

“Let’s get your shirt off.” 

Stiles nods a little bit, a tiny movement, but doesn’t do much to help as Isaac starts to pull the blood stained shirt over his head. Then he’s pushing him backwards just enough so Stiles sits on the bed, allowing Isaac to peel off his shoes and pull off his jeans with Stiles still not contributing any help or conversation. 

After that Isaac is going to the bathroom and grabbing the first aid kit that is used so often he’s shocked to find that it’s fully stocked. He grabs the garbage can as a passing thought and ends up squatting in front of Stiles a few seconds later. Stiles who still hasn’t moved more than an inch from his spot on the edge of the bed.

Then it’s slow work as Isaac unwraps gauze to press up against the bleeding cut on the side of Stiles’ head, the gash in his arm, and the dripping blood on the palm of his hand. He grabs the ice pack and breaks it in a few places to get it cold and then he’s pushing it against the side of Stiles’ face where his eye is already swelling up and looking painful. 

“Anything to say?”

Stiles shakes his head a bit, reaching his hand up to hold the ice pack for himself, allowing Isaac to stand up and stretch out a bit, cleaning up the first aid kit and getting it put away as quickly as he can. It takes another five minutes but Isaac sifts through his room enough to find some clean and comfortable clothes that Stiles can wear.

“I know it wasn’t him. Technically.” Stiles says finally, messing with the drawstring on the sweatpants and twisting it around his fingers. “I know that.”

“Think you can separate that though?” Isaac asks, sitting down next to him. When Stiles doesn’t answer right away Isaac speaks up again, “Stiles. I’m so sorry.”

Stiles smirks a little bit and turns to Isaac, “Dude, I think you’re still in the lead.”

Isaac cringes a bit but lets the snide comment slide for once, instead standing up again and giving Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze, “You can sleep in here. I’ll take the couch.”

“Please…” Stiles cuts off abruptly and Isaac turns back toward him, “Just please stay.”

Isaac nods then and watches Stiles stand up gingerly, his left hand holding onto his ribs while his other hand stays firm on the ice pack to his face. The two climb into the bed and do their best to get comfortable without so much as brushing against each other and staying silent apart from the little whines that escape Stiles.

“Is someone taking care of him?”

“Deaton is spending the night at your house. He’ll keep an eye on him.”

Isaac thinks he’s asleep a few minutes later but then he’s speaking up in a broken sounding voice, “I don’t know how you survived it.”

Isaac looks over at him, Stiles’ eyes are firmly looking at the ceiling, “It’s different. My dad was never like your dad. He didn’t always beat the shit out of me but he was never the kind of father yours is… was… is.”

Their conversation is cut off when the door creaks open. It’s as if someone is trying to silently check on them but forgets that Isaac can hear everything and that the doors in the loft are notoriously noisy. 

Scott pokes his head in then and grimaces when he finds both of them staring at him, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up or anything.”

“You can come in Scott.” Stiles says. And apparently that’s all he needs because he’s sitting on the end of the bed on Stiles’ side within seconds and digging under the blankets so he can get a hand on Stiles’ bare ankle and pull any pain that he can find. “You don’t have to.”

“I should’ve been there.” Scott says, ignoring him and keeping his hand firmly in place, “I smelt something off before I left. I should’ve stayed.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, Stiles, this shouldn’t happen to you. Your dad shouldn’t be a tool used to get to you and you shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done to stop it, Scott. It would’ve happened one way or another at some point.”

Scott still looks guilty, though, and he grumbles a little before giving Stiles’ ankle a squeeze, “It’s going to be alright, we’ll figure this out and everything will be okay again.”

Isaac doesn’t speak up, but he can see Stiles flinch a little bit and Scott look a little defeated because they all know that it won’t ever be quite okay again. Stiles will have to relearn how to trust his father even though it wasn’t really his father that did this. His dad will have to learn about what he did and find a way to cope with that. There was a lot that, even if everything from then on went perfectly, would have to be figured out. 

Another squeeze and Scott’s standing up, clearing his throat, and saying, “I’ll be back tomorrow morning but if you need anything tonight let me know. I’ll go check your house quick before I go home; okay?”

Stiles nods a bit and pulls the blankets a little tighter around himself as Scott quietly shuts the door behind him. He and Isaac both stay quiet for a bit, Isaac not wanting to say something to make him feel any worse than he already did and Stiles not knowing really what there was to say at the minute that would make anything any better. 

“Derek will let you stay.” Stiles turns toward him a little bit, just enough that Isaac knows he’s listening, “No matter how long it takes for you to be comfortable going back to your house.”

Stiles starts to say something, probably along the lines of he’d be fine, but Isaac cuts him off before he can and says, “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed or bad or guilty about not knowing how you’ll feel at home. I know that even after my dad was gone for good and I had to go to the house for some things, I felt out of place.”

Despite how bad their day had gone, both were able to fall asleep relatively quickly, probably due to mental exhaustion more than anything. The next morning, Isaac woke up to find that Stiles was already staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to notice that Isaac was up and turned toward him, “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“I’m getting there.” Stiles assures, “I just want to know how my dad is.”

“Then let’s find out.”

The two both swing their legs over their respective sides of the bed, Stiles considerably slowly and with a grimace but he gets it done. Standing up is another feat and Isaac is there to give him a hand when his ribs groan in protest and his head throbs something fierce. Then they’re headed to the living room where Stiles is begging for there to be no one except Derek waiting for them.

He hits a stroke of luck and walks out to see Derek sitting at the dining room table, nursing a cup of coffee but clearly just waiting for them to wake up because he’s instantly up and looking Stiles over. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Derek says, walking to the kitchen, rattling something, and then coming back with a couple of pills in his hand, “Take these, for the pain.”

Stiles dry swallows them with a halfhearted thanks and then sits himself down at the spot across from where Derek had been sitting, “Have you heard anything? From Deaton?”

Isaac re-emerges from where he’d disappeared into the kitchen after Stiles sat down and sits himself at the head of the table between the two, looking at Derek in wait for the answer just as earnestly as Stiles was.

“He called this morning, it seems to have worn off. Whatever they drugged him with was meant to cause aggression and dim remorse. Clearly it worked.”

Stiles bristles a bit at that but tries to hide it with a nod, “Any chance that it’ll happen again?”

“Only if he gets drugged again.” Derek assures, “Deaton had to answer some tough questions when he woke up this morning. He gave him the minimum information he could. Do you want him to tell the rest?”

Stiles struggles with that for a minute and just as he’s about to speak up, Isaac is saying, “I think it’d be easier for him to hear it from Deaton. Give him a bit to process what happened before he sees Stiles.”

Stiles nods a bit, “Yeah. Makes sense.”

They go quiet for a little bit before Derek clears his throat and asks, “Do you want to go over there today?”

A shrug, cough, and finally, “Not yet.”

And that’s all they question him about it but Derek reaches over and gives his shoulder a squeeze, subtly pulling pain as he says, “It’ll be fine. You guys will be alright. He’s your father. And we’ll get who did this to him, and to you.”


End file.
